It's On Again
by pieandsouffle
Summary: Fury wants to bring in Spider-Man, Peter has no intention of cooperating, Stark and Rogers dislike Fury's choices, and things are made more complicated when a menace named 'The Goblin' begins searching for a certain masked vigilante. AU in which events of TASM2 do not occur, and Peter in the Avengers might actually happen. T for language and people being beaten up.
1. Pursued

**This is a beautiful AU in which my favourite character (Gwen) is not dead, Harry does not become evil, and Peter in the Avengers is a thing that might actually happen.**

It wasn't the first time he'd encountered Iron Man.

And all Peter Parker could think was thank God for that, he knew exactly what to expect.

Although it didn't help him all that much. Especially since Stark was trying knock him out of the air and drag him back to some horrible top-secret military base to be interrogated by some menacing, overly-aggressive secret agent. And then his identity to be presumably discovered, typed into a computer, and somehow hacked and released to the world, considering how incapable S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to be at keeping secret identities- y'know, _secret_. And then, of course, after huge embarrassment and a lot of yelling from Aunt May, criminals would try and take him out. Or his family. He had lost Uncle Ben already, and he didn't think he would be emotionally capable of attending Aunt May's funeral, standing in the same, cold graveyard, listening to a priest drone meaningless, emotionless 'we are here to celebrate the life of-". And if they came after Gwen…

Peter broke away from his reverie, and dodged a small heat-seeking-something, webbed it, and threw it back at its source: in this case, a pissed-off billionaire in a billion-dollar gold-titanium suit of armor. He felt the collision shake its way back to his web shooters, before the webbing disintegrated as a fizz of electricity ran up it, and into Peter.

"Agh!" he yelled as he flew backwards from the shock. He was falling diagonally towards a skyscraper, which would probably have ended like a bug hitting a car windscreen, but just before Peter hit the side of a building, he spun, like a cat, and landed on his hands and feet. _Oh, I love you spider-powers._

Tony Stark fell a few dozen metres, obviously feeling his end of the electricity explosion, before activating the repulsors in his hands and feet, and then turning his suit's steely glare towards Peter, dark stains of charcoal and debris streaking the mask.

"I swear to god, bug, I'm literally trying to help you!" He outstretched his arm in a pacifying gesture, but Peter webbed it as quickly as possible, and the blaster began to glow and whine dangerously. Yeah. Like _that's _'literally trying to help'.

Peter felt a tingle as his spider-sense activated (really? He had had _no_ idea he was in a perpetually fatal situation) and moved only just in time to dodge a blast of heat from Iron Man's blasters, aimed at the webbing between them. He could feel the suit begin to burn where the blast just caught the spandex. A window shattered as the blast hit it straight on, and shards of glass exploded from the frame and dug into the nearest possible living thing: Peter.

He let out a gasp of shock, which he hastily turned into a shout. "I could tell!" he yelled back, refraining from letting out a squeak of pain. "The way you're hurling highly expensive, specialized weaponry at me? I can tell you're just _bleeding _helpfulness!" Ow. Ow ow ow. Peter felt his shoulder-blades blister. He was going to have to repair the suit. _Again. _"Trying to blow me up? Ugh, I can't believe I didn't see the benefits before!"

Peter slipped down the side of the building a few metres. Dammit. Whenever he was distracted or injured, he had a harder time concentrating on his ability to stick to everything. It didn't help that his hands were getting bloody. A man inside the building stared out the window at Peter, spilling his coffee all over the floor, but he didn't seem to notice. Peter saluted him quickly, aware that he was getting a lot weaker and he probably shouldn't waste time being an idiot, but refusing to give up the opportunity to surprise some poor working dude whose most exciting day was probably starting elementary school. The man backed away, and Peter frowned indignantly behind the mask, but then he spotted Iron Man's reflection in the glass. The metal form dropped a few metres and Peter tensed, but Stark wasn't showing any signs of attack.

Yet, anyway.

Peter's bloody hands slipped down the window.

"I don't have anything against you personally, kid," Stark shouted at him, easily lowering his altitude to match Peter's. Despite Peter's powers as Spider-Man, he was getting tired, and Stark could easily go a few more rounds until he knocked Peter into next week. He probably wouldn't win. "Although I probably will if we keep fighting." Stark's mask lifted from his face, revealing a very clean face, with absolutely no signs of stress or sweat. Obviously this fight wasn't draining him in the slightest. Strike that, Peter didn't have a _chance_ at winning. "I mean kid, you're pretty cool. When we took out those über-Nazis near my tower? That was amazing. I seriously don't want to get you injured too badly. Look, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. just wants a word. Can't you just talk to him? Sure, he's an asshole, but you can probably take him." Tony Stark paused. "It's just if I don't get you to come, he's gonna send out some agents to-" he stopped and thought. "Abduct you. And they won't be so uneasy hurting you."

Peter briefly remembered the Nazis. It was like a secret gang of them that were planning to bomb a Jewish community hall. It had been a pretty elaborate act of terrorism for a group of bigots, but thankfully a lone police officer picked up hints about what was going to happen, radioed in to the station which came up on Peter's radio, so he went there, started taking out Nazis left right and centre. Then Stark turned up (well, it was pretty close to the tower) and helped, along with the cop, and the job was done pretty quickly.

And the cop, Awinita Nakos, got a promotion, and radioed Peter occasionally, giving him heads-ups about crime. She was pretty cool. Her kids were nice too.

Despite working with Stark before, Peter had absolutely no intention of coming quietly. "I'm not interested!" Peter bellowed. "I want to keep my secret identity _secret. _There isn't much of a chance of that if I get anywhere near your boss. He'll probably interrogate me anyway, and I will not let that happen." Couldn't win? No problem. There was always escape. Ugh, it was embarrassing though. He shot up the side of a building, watching the glass carefully in case another attack came. When he just saw Stark sigh heavily and put the mask back on, flight stabilizers powering up again, he tripled his speed. He was leaving bloody handprints up the side of the building, but he didn't particularly care. He knew J. J. Jameson sure would, but since when did anyone ever pay attention to the news presenter? All Jameson cared about was his precious photos Peter provided, and-

"Agh!"

The spidey-sense went into overdrive (way too late, thanks a bunch) when a very large, shield-like object that happened to look exactly like Captain America's barreled into his side. Even his superhuman healing and flexibility didn't save a rib or two from cracking.

_Shit._

He was in trouble.

Captain America had joined in the fight. Yep, he definitely was, how about that? Peter could see him on the ground as he dangled from the building. Cap was on the ground in his full-on freedom outfit, including the helmet.

At least he wasn't wearing that awful turtle-neck sweater Peter had seen him wearing in history class. Man, even for the forties, that was the most awful fashion disaster Peter had ever seen. The Captain seemed to know what Peter was thinking about. OK, probably not, but even from the distance, he could swear he somehow saw Cap's eyes narrow.

It really wasn't fair. Two of Peter's idols were both trying to knock him into oblivion and pull him away to God-knows where. Steve Rogers, America's first super-hero (maybe not the world's though, Peter quite admired Schindler), thought he was some common criminal/vigilante that had to be _taken down and brought to S.H.I.E.L.D. _Tony Stark, complete _genius _(though admittedly insane)_, _thought he was being stupid to avoid going to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Peter just wanted to help people. And he had a duty to do it, as well. _With great power comes great responsibility, _Uncle Ben chanted in Peter's head.

"Please shut up Uncle Ben, no time right now." He'd apologize to his mental version of his uncle later.

Hey, maybe he should apologize for getting him _killed _too. Peter felt the claws of guilt slap him over the head with that bottle of dumb milk that screwed up his life.

His self-pity couldn't last long however, especially as the shield returned for another attack, and Peter's ribs stabbed into him with horrible throbs of pain that made him drop several metres down the side of the building.

It took him a few seconds to realize he was falling (come _on, _spidey-sense, do your job!), and another second to actually _do _something about it.

In this case, catch himself with one hand, lunge through a broken window, avoid screaming employees, and run.

Ugh, escape. What a _masterful _plan.

**Hey, thanks for reading this far. I'm aware I'm not the best writer and this hasn't been beta-ed, so if you could please write ways to improve my writing in reviews and such! And your opinion on the story so far! Thanks for reading so far.**


	2. Captured

**Okay, thank you to the 26 or so people who followed this fic. I was quite surprised to have that many follow overnight, so thank you. Apologies if Tony or Steve are OOC, I'm not great at writing different characters yet.**

Iron Man smashed into the ground beside Captain America, watching Spider-Man disappear into a building mid-fall. "Did you just boomerang your shield at that kid?!"

"_Kid?" _Steve Rogers asked in amazement. "Fury told me he was an assassin and had to be taken out and handed over to S.H.I.E.L.D.!" He never would have thrown his shield if he'd known there was a kid in that spider costume. "How do you know?"

Stark grunted. "Fury wanted me to bring him in for questioning. The kid's helped me before and I guess he knows me better than the others, and since the director apparently knows Spider-kid won't be coming in by his own terms, he lied to you to get Spider-Man taken in."

"What a-" Steve stopped himself from vocalizing the director's name amidst several expletives (_probably 'damn', 'bloody' and 'fondue'_, Tony thought. Of course his father had told him that story). "How can we bring in the kid without hurting him more?"

"I don't know! Tell me you have an idea, Rogers!" He hadn't been sure whether Spider-Man was actually bleeding, but J.A.R.V.I.S. zoomed in on the side of the building, which had bloody handprints all over it. "I'm all out!" That wasn't actually true, he had only tried talking (which hadn't worked), and attacking without strategy, but hopefully Steve wouldn't realize that. "I don't want to hurt the kid anymore."

_That's not actually true, sir, _J.A.R.V.I.S. said, correcting a previous statement. _You have not suggested a single thing to stop Spider-Man, excepting highly aggressive plans. I however, do have some ideas that might better suit the situation, minimizing injuries to Spider-Man, yourself, and damage to surrounding structures-_

"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S. Tell me while I'm in the air." Stark said curtly, and took off after Spider-Man again. A brief thought nearly stopped him midair.

"Rogers, this kid has been around for _ages. _He's on TV _all the time. _How do you _not _know about him?"

_"__Well, I-" _There was a shifty silence, which only confirmed what Tony had already suspected.

"You can't operate the _TV!?_" he crowed.

"_I can operate specialized HYDRA weaponry," _Rogers hissed. "_Your unnecessarily complicated televisions are the least of my worries right now. Try bring the kid in without murdering him."_

"Well, we've got you to do that," Stark mumbled.

Peter burst from the other side of the building, after a long detour avoiding workers (including coffee-man, who seemed to have moved floor to regale other employees with the story of Spider-Man and the window) in the building, standing right in the way in states of a kind of petrified amazement. He allowed himself to fall for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of cool air whooshing past him, on his aching ribs, before webbing himself a line to a bridge and swinging over the heads and cars of gaping and openmouthed commuters standing dumbly, mouths opening and closing like fish.

"Watch ooooouuuuuut!" Peter screamed uselessly as his lifeline slipped and he nearly crashed into a bus full of tourists. Fortunately he dodged the vehicle with a somersault (ow ribs ow ow he was gonna regret this), and saw flashes of light as the tourists immediately raised their cameras in a uniform onslaught of holiday memories.

Sure, his spider-powers were helping him so far, but Peter was tired. Really tired, and sore, and in quite a lot of pain, and the only thing he wanted to do was find Gwen and fall asleep in her lap. Of course, after chastisement and amateur surgery. Although if Stark kept up the pursuit, that might not ever happen. Well the chastisement would; even if she was standing in front of his grave, Gwen would tell him off for being an idiot.

Peter was struck by the sudden realization that his aunt might not ever find out what happened to him if he died as Spider-Man. Gwen would realize, of course, and if Aunt May did, who knows how she would react? And what if she found _out?_

He didn't want to go, not yet. Not for a long time.

"And that's _not _happening," he said to himself with gritted teeth.

_You have to somehow daze him, sir, _J.A.R.V.I.S. stated. _I suggest you use your flares, and then use an electrical shock to render him unconscious. I examined footage of a previous capture of Spider-Man when Doctor Connors was attempting to genetically alter the DNA of every living thing in New York. That was how the police managed to arrest him, before Captain Stacy released him._

Tony altered his flight path to dodge a gaggle of tourists that were piling out of a bus, squealing and armed with cameras. "Okay, we've just got to get in front of him first. I tried using the electrical missiles before, but he kept dodging them."

_Not a problem, sir._ Tony felt the flight stabilizers kick it up a few notches, and he rocketed forward even faster than before. _He was expecting them, then. _Spider-Man's slowing form was getting closer every second. Now that Tony was flying closer, he could really see the extent of damage done to the man in the suit, and felt a few pangs of guilt. He hadn't intended it to get this bloody. In fact, he'd hoped that Spider-Man would immediately agree to see Fury. If it hadn't been Tony trying to collect him, Spider-Man, or someone else, would most likely already be dead. If the kid had just agreed… Stubborn dick.

Apparently Spider-Man bore more similarities with Tony than he'd thought.

The Iron Man suit overtook Spider-Man, who tried to shoot off in a different direction, but Tony raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay! I understand you don't want to see the director. I don't blame you. He's a dickhead." Spider-Man stuck to the side of the bridge and pointed his hands at Tony, holding himself on the bridge with only his feet. "We'll stop bothering you."

The last part was a blatant lie, but Spider-Man slowly lowered his hands that were directed straight at Tony, apparently ready to web him up with that sticky mixture that kept shooting out of his wrists. When Spider-Man's hands were planted on the bridge, J.A.R.V.I.S. deployed flares.

"We'll stop bothering you."

Peter could hardly believe his ears. He didn't want to trust Stark (well, actually he did, Tony Stark was so cool), but his spider-sense remained quiet.

His human sense, on the other hand, was screaming _nope nope nope are you fucking insane Peter oh just trust the guy with the missiles that was just __**attacking **__you by all means you absolute __**twat.**_

Despite his human sense's colourful attempts to dissuade him from trusting Stark, almost two seconds passed without disaster striking.

So he lowered his hands.

**_OOOOH I TOLD YOU YOU PIECE OF-_**

Peter saw the mini-missiles leave the Iron Man suit, and it took a millisecond (too long) to realize what they were. His spider-sense wasn't going off, so they obviously weren't going to hurt him… too much.

Flares. Stark released flares.

And then everything went white. It was like a needle had been jabbed into both eyes. He pulled one of his hands off the bridge to shield his eyes (reminder: tint and polarize the lenses on his mask).

It reminded Peter all too much of when he was swinging his way to Oscorp to stop Doctor Connors. Flash of light, blinded and then taser. He particularly disliked the taser part, which thankfully hadn't happened yet.

Of course the spider-sense hadn't gone off. Flares technically weren't an attack, at least according to the bullshit sense.

**_HUMAN SENSE WINS THIS ROUND YOU LOSER_**

A steely hand gripped Peter's shoulder, and he blindly tried to shake it off. He lobbed a web in a random direction.

His human sense shook its metaphorical head sadly and flipped him off.

"Sorry, kid! Hopefully this won't hurt." Tony Stark's mechanized voice boomed next to his head, and then that useless spider-sense went off again (approximately 47.7 times stronger than before) as volts of electricity coursed through his body. It must have taken barely a second, but in that time Peter experienced an unpleasant feeling not unlike being dunked into boiling water, managed to swear extravagantly, and only after that, did everything disappear.

"Well, thank God that's over," Tony said, the mask lifting up from his face. He was holding Spider-Man, who had begun falling as soon as he had been tasered, out completely cold, bloody, and breathing far too shallowly to be healthy. (A sort of reflex had made him drop Spider-Man when the first volts coursed through him).

"You lied to him," Steve said disapprovingly. "You said you were going to stop."

"Well, I wasn't about to tell him I was going to electrocute him." Tony looked down at the boy. "Fury lied to you, again, and you don't seem to be that upset. At least this kid's in better condition than if Romanoff had come after."

"Actually, if Natasha was on the case, he'd already be leaving from the S.H.I.E.L.D. base in perfect condition."

"Shut up, Rogers."

"And he'd be pleasantly surprised as to how polite S.H.I.E.L.D. was."

"I swear to God, Rogers."

Director Fury surveyed the clouds on the helicarrier as numerous agents spoke into headsets, tapped on keyboards, and glared at the screens of their computers. To a stranger, it appeared he was admiring the view. To anyone who had known him for longer the 14 seconds, it was clear he was waiting. In this case, waiting for an arrogant billionaire to blast past, come aboard, and cockily strut into the room.

He was not disappointed.

"Stark's aboard, Director," Agent Hill stated, taking her hand away from her earpiece. "Rogers is being collected from the ground by Romanoff and Barton."

So Stark had separated from the others. Fury recognized this behaviour.

Tony Stark wanted to gloat. Fury cracked a knuckle. _This is expected._

No sooner had he thought that, Tony Stark entered. He wasn't wearing his armour, which was normal, but he wasn't strutting, which was not normal.

Fury turned his single eye onto Tony Stark in the most horrifying glare as soon as he entered the room.

"I'm hoping for your own sake that your only purpose for being here is to tell me you brought Spider-Man in."

Tony Stark does not smile, and Fury was briefly reminded of when Stark hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. classified files to reveal that weapons were being developed from the tesseract. Tony had still busted out with the sarcasm ("I'm sorry Nick, what were you lying?"), but he hadn't been smiling. He had been deadly serious. For Stark, anyway. He sat down heavily at the conference table.

"You lied to Cap to bring in Spider-Man."

Oh. So Stark was pissed off about Spider-Man. Which was unsurprising, now that Fury thought about it.

"Spider-Man had to be brought in, he's a danger to society."

"Criminal society. And y'know, I think I'm slightly more qualified to decide that. I've worked with him, not you. You just get pissed when you aren't the reason for something going well."

"What are you talking about, Stark?"

Stark slammed his hands into the table. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. Spider-Man is doing the _right _thing, and you manipulate Rogers into practically _killing _him so that your precious Shitty Homeland etc. etc. division gets a) the credit for Spider-Man doing his job," Stark listed the reasons off his fingers, "or b) the excuse that you arrested him if his little exploits are badly received!" He paused, and then tapped a third finger. "And so that you can know every stupid thing about this kid because you seem to have a serious problem with not knowing absolutely everything."

Fury gave Tony an unimpressed glare. "I understand that you're feeling overprotective of the insect-"

"Spiders are actually classified as arachnids. Elementary school."

Oh great, the annoying dick version of Tony had turned. As if he'd never left. Agent Hill's face was stiff, but Fury had definitely caught her mouth begin to quirk up before she took control of her emotions again.

"Overprotective of the _arachnid, _but I have a world to keep safe, and this bug-" Fury gave a brutal look at Stark, who had opened his mouth, presumably to correct him with the actual definition of a bug, "-threatens it."

"Only by doing _our_ job pretty damn well."

"Stark, I seem to remember you giving up your 'job' for an uncertain period of time." Fury gave a pointed glare to Tony's chest where the miniaturised arc reactor had once glowed.

"That's not the point!" Tony insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Spider-Man is doing exactly what we're supposed to do and you had us bring him in for it!"

"We have a duty to protect the world. Spider-Man deals with petty crime. Regardless," Fury spat, "his abilities classify him as a _potential threat. _When, or if, he agrees to work with S.H.I.E.L.D., we can remove him from that list."

"Rogers, Romanoff and Barton are on board with Spider-Man," Agent Hill interrupted. "Captain America is heading here right now."

"I can't wait to see the shit Rogers puts you through," Stark remarked gleefully.

Steve could barely accept that Fury lied to him. Sure, he really should have expected it, considering who the Director was (Tony's words floated through his head: _"Captain, he's _the _spy. His secrets have secrets." _He waved them away, and when they wouldn't leave, threw his shield at them).

After a cold argument with Nick Fury that he wasn't sure either of them won, he and Stark went to Spider-Man's holding cell. The vigilante was still out completely cold, belted to the bed in there like Barton had been when trying to release him from the effects of Loki's hypnotism.

There was still a considerable amount of blood on him, and his chest was rising and falling in a fluttering, weak way that Steve was sure he was entirely responsible for.

Stark seemed to know that. "Did your job a bit well for your liking?"

Steve didn't reply for a second. "I genuinely believed it when Fury said he was attacking civilians. I wouldn't have ever tried to bring him in if I had known he was helping people."

"Well, Fury is an asshole, so I just wouldn't trust him in future," Stark said casually.

Steve stared at the person behind the glass. Now that he was up close and not in action, he could really see Spider-Man. He didn't look all that heroic at the moment, a skinny man in a bloody costume, clearly in a very bad way. He could see a slash across Spider-Man's forehead, bloodied skin showing slightly through the gap.

"I think I did that one," Stark said, pointing out the gash on the vigilante's head.

Steve didn't answer. He recalled throwing his shield at the masked man, watching him clutch his chest after it connected with him. Broken ribs, surely.

"You _really _tore Fury a new one in there," Stark chuckled.

Steve quirked up the corner of his mouth, before lowering it to resume a solemn expression. "He had it coming. Manipulating me into just about _murdering _that kid," he said, nodding his head to Spider-Man.

"He likes getting us to do the dirty work."

"I'm not doing his dirty work again."

"Yeah, just punch him next time," Tony suggested.

"You're not helping."

**A****nd thanks once again for reading this far.**

**Updates may be a little slower to come, but rest assured that more will be coming. I've planned out most of this story and written a huge amount, so it'll be coming soon.**


	3. Escape

**Apologies about this chapter. I was just really unenthusiastic about this one for some reason, so it's a helluva lot shorter and more badly written than it should be. Next one will be better, I just had to get this one out of the way.**

* * *

Of course, he had been completely and hopelessly passed out until he had been left in the room, where he had woken up and decided to stay 'unconscious' for the larger part of seven hours.

The smaller part had been spent actually sleeping. He hadn't bothered staying awake after that, just committing it to memory before 'hey, I think I deserve a nap'.

He mulled over the conversation. It was nice to think that Tony Stark and Captain America hadn't _wanted _to beat the shit out of him, but it didn't exactly detract from the fact that they_ had_.

Of course, it was still hugely satisfying that Captain America thought he was doing the right thing.

That was pretty cool.

Yeah.

He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling.

A few _hours _must have passed since that conversation. The lights had dimmed slightly in the room, making him sure that it had morphed into night outside while he drooled into his mask.

Peter slowly turned his head to the side, trying to look out the window to the room without any cameras picking up the movement. He assumed he got away with it, because the lights didn't flicker on and no burly agents came to stand menacingly at the door.

Peter decided to risk another movement. This time, a much larger movement.

He yanked at the strap tying his arm to the bed.

Well, he hadn't _intended _for it break so easily, but it was hardly his fault that they _seemed _to have placed him in a cell for regular humans.

That thought forced him to hold back a bark of laughter. Hah. So much for S.H.I.E.L.D. Fucking idiots.

He pulled his wrist up to his face and to his utmost delight, found that they had not removed his web shooters.

S.H.I.E.L.D. truly was incompetent.

* * *

At around 4am, long after Steve Rogers and Stark had returned to the city, Fury found himself grinding his teeth at a screen in the control room. Maria Hill stood firmly next to him, surveying the footage displayed seriously.

The footage in question showed Spider-Man breaking free of his bonds, somehow breaking through a _wall _(Fury had to give it to the bug, he was a lot stronger than he looked), and disappearing into the night: also called free-falling from the helicarrier which was currently directly above New York City.

A few agents filtered through the doors to the control room nervously. One or two coughed, and another pulled out a phone and began playing a game, his eyes flicking from the small screen to Fury anxiously. It was completely silent.

"Who was the fucking _idiot,_" Fury said, "who put Spider-Man in a cell designed for normal humans?"

The silence was completer (if possible), until the agent with the phone _meeped._

* * *

Peter lay on the ground, his face in a puddle, and moaned.

What… a fucking… _disaster._

Yeah yeah, heroic escape, it would have been very nice and everything if he hadn't broken his _goddamn ankle in the fall._

S.H.I.E.L.D. was probably laughing right now at any security footage of him falling.

Peter pulled his face up off the ground and irritably surveyed his location. He didn't get much from it, except that it was a dark, gross-smelling alley with something weird against the wall that didn't seem to be human, animal, plant or anything except for sludge.

He let his face fall back in the puddle.

It was probably time to head over to Gwen's.

* * *

It took a very long way to limp his way to Gwen's apartment, but when he finally arrived there (it was thankfully not occupied by her brothers of mother at the moment), he climbed through the window and collapsed on the nearest flat surface available, which happened to be the floor.

Gwen spilled tea _everywhere. _"Peter! I've been so worried! What- holy _shit_, what did they _do _to you?!"

"How come your people aren't here?" he mumbled into the carpet evading the question. He hurt so much, and he was just _so _tired...

Gwen gently rolled him over until he was facing the ceiling. She kneeled over him, a silhouette against the overhead lights. He couldn't see her face, but he could imagine what her expression was.

"They're interstate, visiting grandparents," she replied, pulling off Peter's mask. She gazed down at his face, concerned. "They won't be back for another few days. You look terrible, if it helps to know." She wiped her tea/blood stained hand on her thigh, and then kissed him. "Let's get you fixed up, bug-boy." It sounded like she said it with a smile, but a worried one at that. "You can stay the night here, and then I'll take you back to your aunt. She's worried sick, but I don't think she should see you when you're so beaten up."

* * *

After a miniature surgery that Peter never wanted to repeat again (except Gwen's hands were nice and cool on his bruised chest, but his ankle and shoulder didn't take well to being reset), he seriously needed to sleep.

Gwen refused to let him sleep on the floor, and Peter refused to let _her _sleep on the floor, or her to let him sleep in her family's beds (who wanted to come home and sleep in a bed that had occupied a disgustingly dirty teenage boy? He could manage on the floor), so after a brief argument, one which Gwen won, Peter sulkily climbed into her bed.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Literally. Gwen had to stifle her sniggers at how silly he looked as he just completely collapsed. She turned the light off and left the room, leaving her ridiculous boyfriend to sleep in peace.

* * *

**Sorry about this chapter guys. For some reason I really didn't have my heart in it. Next one will be longer and better, promise. **


	4. Confronted

**So to make up for the last dismal chapter, here is a longer one. It doesn't have any action, but whatever. Enjoy.**

* * *

**_Two days later_**

"-no one was injured in the incident, and we plan to keep it that way in future incidents. Stark out," Tony finished.

To say the press conference was going poorly was an understatement. After having numerous reporters stand up and attempt to question him halfway through his speech, he was in a slightly bad mood. Attention was great and all, but some of the reporters had been loudly talking about his uncalled for attack on Spider-Man. He really just didn't want to talk about, especially with how guilty he was feeling over the whole 'abduct-Spider-Man-and-bring-him-to-Fury' incident.

Reporters muttered and a few hopefuls tilted their microphones towards him. A familiar-looking woman stood up.

"Christine-"

"No."

Rhodey put his hand on Tony's shoulder and steered him away, intent on having him removed from the conference before he fucked something up, but before he managed to leave the podium, a moustached man stood up angrily as Christine someone-or-other sat down.

"J. Jonah. Jameson, Daily Bugle," he barked, spit flying. "As much as I approve of you taking out that wall-crawling menace, Spider-Man, that was crap, what you said about no injuries."

He wasn't exactly yelling, at least not as if he meant to. It was more like he didn't know how to talk any quieter.

The guy would have made a great PE teacher.

Tony made a run for the microphone, but Rhodey ducked in front of him and raced back in front in the hopes of stopping Tony from saying something seriously stupid. "Mr. Jameson, no pedestrians, people in vehicles, or any others were reported injured in the events that occurred. Mr. Stark is not answering any more questions or comments."

"Bull crap!" Jameson bellowed. "Doesn't mean it didn't happen! Look at my photographer!" He reached down to the person sitting down next to him.

"No, Mr. Jameson, please…"

"Mr. Jameson, Peter has made it clear-"

"I'm not listening, Miss Brant! Up, Parker!"

"No, I'm totally fine. I still have feeling in my legs, I don't count as injured."

The photographer's futile attempts to stay hidden were unsuccessful as the older man managed to drag up a teenage boy, whose appearance was met with gasps. A slightly older woman attempted to drag the boy back down out of eyesight.

Tony didn't make a sound, but the pit of his stomach dropped a few inches with guilt. The boy was wearing square black glasses, which wasn't all that unusual, but the glasses were doing absolutely nothing to hide his black eyes, a cut across his forehead, and bruising all over his face. On top of that, the boy's arm was in a sling, he was delicately holding a crutch in the other hand, and his only visible hand had plasters- well, plastered over it.

"This boy was at the scene attempting to take photographs for _The Daily Bugle, _and he was hit by falling debris from your escapades!" J. J. J. barked.

A few flashes of cameras went off, and the boy (was it Parker?) wrenched his arm from Jameson's grip with a wince and sat down hastily. Well, as hastily as he could manage in his condition. A different reporter raised his hand meekly to say something, but a ferocious glare from Colonel Rhodes made him bring his hand down to pretend he was scratching his head.

"Do you have anything to say about the injuries caused to my photographer?" Jameson yelled.

"Why the _fuck _are you making him work?" Tony asked. It was the only thing he could say in his disbelief.

* * *

The next half hour wasn't pretty. That was all that could be said; that and that several of the security guards employed by Stark Industries had resigned after a few very determined reporters had done things of questionable legality in attempts to get back to Tony to pose questions.

When most of the reporters had thankfully vacated the building (or been forcibly removed, it didn't matter), Tony was struck by the urge to find that young photographer that had been so savagely beaten up. As he rushed out of the tower, avoiding a couple of lingering reporters, he wildly looked around for the young man.

What was he supposed to say?

_Hi, sorry about the huge fight thing. Yeah, and sorry that you happened to get caught in the crossfire, it was a completely unnecessary fight, but you probably got a few good photos out of it, right?_

It only took his third or fourth scan of the immediate vicinity to locate the kid's boss, and sure enough, he was right next to him. A short brunette woman (Miss Brant, possibly?) stood with them.

Tony had no plans to go anywhere near the kid when Jameson was around still, but thankfully, the kid was greeted by a pretty blonde girl, and Jameson shouted a farewell, hauling Miss Brant away, leaving the photographer alone with the girl.

Excellent.

"How did the conference go?" Gwen asked Peter. He shifted his non-destroyed leg and opened his mouth to answer, but his boss beat him to it.

"It went fantastically!" Mr. Jameson interrupted. "At the rate it's going, we'll have that wall-crawling menace and that hazard Iron-Man put away behind bars!" Betty Brant rolled her eyes.

Gwen's smile became slightly fixed. "That's great, Mr. Jameson."

"Yes, it is! It'll take no time at _all _to have that stupid-"

"Have you considered that Spider-Man is trying to help?" Gwen interjected coldly.

Peter winced and hoped that Jameson would leave soon. His boss and Gwen had never gotten along that well.

Jameson's eyes narrowed. "I see you've been converted into supporting that criminal! May I remind you he was responsible for the death of your father?"

It was Gwen's turn to narrow her eyes. "Mr. Jameson, if you are seriously-"

Thankfully, Betty cleared her throat loudly and conspicuously.

"Mr. Jameson," she said sternly, "we have to print the front page. We need to get back to the _Bugle._" She stared at him. Betty was the only one that could really take control of Jameson. At least occasionally.

"Why are you wasting time, Betty?" Jameson barked. Not this occasion. "We have to print the front page! Stop blabbering!"

He grabbed Betty's arm and began hauling her away. "Bye, Parker! Don't be late tomorrow or you're fired!"

Betty waved her free hand in goodbye. Then the crowd of reporters swallowed up Peter's coworker.

Gwen shook her head, her eyes filled with cold fury. "He's so-"

"The English language does not have the right words to describe that man."

"No," Gwen agreed icily. "It doesn't." She took hold of Peter's least injured arm and gently tugged him in the direction of the subway. "Let's go back to your aunt's."

They had taken barely five steps when a loud voice yelled at them.

"Oh no," Peter winced.

* * *

"Hey! Photographer kid!" Tony yelled when Jameson was a safe distance away. The photographer and his girlfriend had started walking (limping, hobbling, whatever) away. Tony hadn't realized that the kid had an ankle in a brace. Well duh, that's why he had the crutch.

The boy warily looked around, and the girl did too. When the girl fixed her eyes on Tony as the source of the noise, her eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

"Look, I didn't want to come to the conference," The boy said quickly when Tony neared. "Jameson only brought me to get one-up on you, he doesn't actually care much, I really don't want to get involved-"

Tony waved away his stammering. "Hey, I'm not gonna beat you up."

"You beat up Spider-Man," the girl interrupted coldly. "Someone who was trying to help. Forgive him for not being one hundred percent trusting of you."

Tony tried ignore her, but she was addressing an issue that he had come over to discuss. "I needed to apologize to you anyway, even if you hadn't come to conference. I shouldn't have been attacking Spider-Man, and if I hadn't, then you wouldn't be out of order. So, kid, what's your name, and are you in college?"

The boy tilted his head slightly and blinked. The girl scrunched her brows up in a 'what-the-fuck?' face.

"Um, Peter Parker, and yes."

"OK, great. Expect an apology any day soon. Probably in your bank account."

Peter blinked again and his mouth opened slightly, and Tony Stark walked back to the Stark tower, not concealing the smirk on his face. Oh, this kid was going to think that getting caught in the crossfire was a turning point in his life.

* * *

"Is he- is he going to pay for you to go to college?" Gwen stared at him dumbly.

"Um… maybe?"

* * *

Tony planted himself into his wheely chair and lazily spun in a circle.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., can you find a 'Peter Parker'? I owe him money."

_Sir, I have all your current debts on my system. You have zero, _J.A.R.V.I.S. stated in his mechanized voice.

"Nah, this is new. He got busted up when we were bringing in Spider-Man. This is kinda compensation. I meant can you find him on the internet, any files on him from the police, hack his Facebook, tumblr, etcetera. I need to find him."

_Certainly, sir. _J.A.R.V.I.S. stopped talking, and a faint beeping echoed through the room as the search began.

Tony sighed, stretched a hand out to stop the chair spinning and poured himself a glass of brandy. He leaned back, mulling over the events that had driven him to meet this photographer- Peter Parker.

He had been sure that no one had been seriously injured in the events of yesterday. In fact, he made sure explicitly that all the fighting was done in the air so people wouldn't get hurt/killed/heavily traumatized.

But this kid. He didn't look as if he'd accidentally gotten hit by a piece of shrapnel. It was like the kid had been given to the Avengers and had been beaten up by them separately. Then hit by a bus, put on a rack, and put in a fridge during a nuclear explosion like in the last _Indiana Jones _movie.

Tony shook his head and pulled a spare repulsor from the desk closer to him and attacked it with a screw driver.

Well, most superhero antics had more casualties. This was one kid that had gotten hurt, and thankfully not killed.

Speaking of people getting hurt, Tony wondered how Spider-Man was faring. Fury hadn't mentioned the topic of the webslinger since he had been brought aboard the helicarrier. Presumably because Fury knew he would get his ass kicked by Steve if the Cap was reminded of the abduction.

_Search complete, sir._

Tony spun his wheelie chair around and nearly fell out. "Cool. What'd you find?" He downed the rest of his brandy, hoping that J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn't noticed.

_Very smooth, sir. Peter Parker is nineteen year old male living in Queens with his aunt, May Parker. His parents were Richard and Mary Parker-_

"The _Parkers? _I remember them! Richard worked with Osborn!" Tony was surprised he hadn't recognized the family resemblance. "Parker was a genius! Why's his kid living in _Queens?"_

_If I may continue, sir? _J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, his computer voice somehow sounding a bit pissed off. _Peter Parker has been living with his aunt since Richard and Mary Parker's deaths. The young Mr. Parker has won multiple science awards for engineering and biology, and has applied for a scholarship to Oxford University for a photography course._

"He's a science geek and he's doing _photography?" _Tony asked disgustedly. "What a waste of brains."

_I believe he is planning to do a course for genetic engineering as well. He will travel to England next year if successful, with his girlfriend Miss Gwendolyn Stacy, who has been awarded scholarship already._

"Oh, so she's a smart one too!"

_It would seem so, sir. She manufactured the antidote which healed Doctor Connors and the police officers overcome by the lizard formula._

Tony suddenly realized what a scholarship actually was. "Wait, so he doesn't have to pay for college anyway!"

_Only if he is successful in gaining a scholarship. According to the Oxford website I hacked, his chances are particularly high._

Tony groaned and leaned back in the chair, which was precariously balanced on two wheels. "What does he _need?_" How was he supposed to- Oh.

"He lives in Queens with his aunt. Pay for all their bills for the next ten years. Anonymously."

_Certainly, sir._

"And do Parker and his lady friend have jobs?"

_Sir, are you suggesting what I think-_

"You know me so well, J.A.R.V.I.S."

* * *

**I hope that made up for the last chapter. Apologies for any OOCness, especially with Betty Brant. I don't really know what her character is like except from a viewing of the original Spider-Man movies. And I have discovered page breaks! Wow, I can't believe I forgot about those for the first couple of chapters. Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading!**


	5. Guilt

**Sorry for the delay guys! Unfortunately this is one of those boring chapters that are necessary. I also thought I should point out that the events of _The Winter Soldier _have not taken place. Happy reading!**

* * *

Steve threw a punch into the punching-bag as the radio burbled meaningless behind him. It hurt, it usually did, perhaps because he had incorrect technique, but pain was good sometimes.

Pain helped him forget.

It let him forget a lot of things.

Like waking up after the sensation of being asleep for a few seconds, waking up to a messed up world that was so needlessly complicated and everything good had gone. He woke up, still 27, feeling like it was only days since Bucky had fallen and gone. Peggy had a family and had grown old, and after that her memory had holes torn through it. He visited her several times, and each time she sobbed. "Steve!" she said. "You're alive. It's been so long!" And then she would have a coughing fit, and everything would start all over again.

After he visited her he went to the sand bag and pummeled it until the chain broke and it burst open on the ground.

He wouldn't pick up another one that day, mostly because he frequently destroyed punching bags and it seemed a waste. He heard a lot now about people in countries far away, people that starved to death with their children, earning the equivalent of 5 cents a day. That punching-bag cost enough to feed one family for a long time.

Steve had never heard about this when he was living in the slums of Brooklyn. He supposed it had always happened, but people were so much more focused on their own life that they never were told about the people in those poor countries.

It hadn't improved much over the last 70 years. People suffered still and everyone else knew about it, they just found they couldn't spare the time to think or care about it.

In any case, Steve wasn't beating up the bag to forget the war, or how the world had barely improved.

He was trying to forget about Spider-Man.

Steve swatted the bag one last time before he let his arms fall to his side, once-combed hair falling limply in his eyes. The bag swung a few times, like Spider-Man did on his webs.

He shot out a hand and stilled the punching-bag.

Steve really didn't like getting angry. He hated that feeling of burning fury in his chest and behind his eyes. But he couldn't think of Spider-Man and Director Fury without that volcanic heat boiling up under his skin.

How dare Fury.

How dare he manipulate Steve into trying to take out a child in a costume, a child that was doing what was morally right. He could hear Fury's voice now.

_"__Captain, this vigilante has been committing crimes all around the city and is responsible for the death of the NYPD chief. He is dangerous. You need to take him out or bring him in."_

An uncomfortable redness built up around his peripheral vision. _Stop, _he reminded himself. _There is nothing you can do about it now except look out for Spider-Man. _ He bit his lip and bent his head down, staring resolutely as he unbandaged his hands. _Think about something else._

But what was there to think of?

Everything he understood, everything that was _home _was gone. Bucky was dead, Peggy was as good as, Howard was too, and when he tried to find any remaining Howling Commandos, he found that he had woken up one month after the last one, Jacques Dernier, had died peacefully in France.

Steve disliked sulking as much as anyone, and it was exceedingly out of character for him, but he really couldn't help it this once. He folded the bandages up and put them in his pocket (waste not, want not, right?)

_"__Earlier today, it was revealed that there had been one civilian injured in the attack on Spider-Man by Captain America and the Iron Man, Tony Stark." _The woman on the radio said tonelessly.

Steve's head shot straight up and turned to the radio. It, like everything else, was unnecessarily complex, but he had it figured out pretty quickly. Honestly, who wanted to record music from the radio when the internet existed?

One good thing that 70 years of inventions had brought.

_"__The photographer of _The Daily Bugle, _19 year-old Peter Parker, was severely injured in the fight between the super-heroes. Fortunately it seems that there will be no lasting damage, as he was present at the earlier press conference at which Tony Stark argued profusely with Parker's employer, Mr. J. Jonah Jameson-"_

Steve tuned out again as the reporter started talking about Tony.

A child had been injured in the attack.

That brought the tally up to two. How many more people would they find that had been injured because of him?

Steve's reverie was broken as he heard the familiar sound of repulsors outside.

"I don't need this right now," he said aloud. His words didn't block out the sound of Tony tripping over various objects and swearing. It was bad enough that he was partly responsible for the beating of a relatively innocent person and an extremely innocent person.

"Hey! Steve!" It was worse now that the other perpetrator was in the room _with him at that very moment._

He heard the uncoordinated sound of Tony's shoes scuffing through the remaining sand from a previously ruptured punching bag.

"I've got good news!"

_Good _news? That _was _news.

"About what?"

"The kid that got beat up when we were getting Spidey!"

"I don't understand how that's good news, Stark."

Tony stood in front of him, and Steve was struck by how much shorter Stark actually was. The suit put a good two inches on him.

"It's good because I've talked the kid and I know exactly how to make it up to him."

"I hope it's a good idea, because being savagely beaten warrants an apology."

"Yeah, I apologized," Tony said with a wave of his hand. "Sort of. The news is that he lives in Queens."

"Queens."

"Yeah, Queens. I'm paying for all his family's bills for the rest of their lives and I'm gonna give him and his girlfriend jobs if they want them."

Steve's eyebrow had been making a steady incline, but the last bit surprised him and it dropped down to its normal state. "Jobs? At Stark Industries? You mean as receptionists, right?"

"Nah, I had J.A.R.V.I.S. look them up, and they're both geniuses! The boy's parents were famous geneticists and it's rubbed off on him. His lady friend, Miss Stacy, she just seems to have gotten the genius gene from nowhere. Her dad was a police officer, and if I remember, not that bright."

"Was?"

"I think he got killed a few years ago. The point is, I'm making it up to the two of them because of the stress and whatever."

A tiny little petal from the great fucking flower of guilt in Steve's chest dropped off. There was the remaining flower left, though.

"What about Spider-Man?" he asked.

Tony shrugged. "I guess next time we see him, we give him a big apology and a hug." He leant against the punching-bag and hastily straightened again as he nearly fell over.

"Be serious, Stark."

"Really? I think we should look out for him. Make sure nothing else happens. Be his Guardian Avengers."

Steve let out a breath. "That's what I was thinking. Without the cliché titles."

"I thought they were cool."

"I am 95 years old and I know that they were not cool by any definition."

Tony folded his arms. "Well, I'm leaving to demonstrate how offended I am, and to accost a couple of teenagers. See ya around, Capsicle." He darted around Steve and the scattered sand and sped out the door. The familiar sound of Stark navigating through the junk at the entrance of the building floated into Steve's ears, before the blast that signified Tony's dramatic exit sounded.

Steve shook his head. Maybe Howard wasn't dead, he had just been replaced by his enigmatic son.

He was a friend, anyhow.

* * *

Peter kissed Gwen goodbye after she walked him home and watched her leave. The weather wasn't all that spectacular, so the wind had messed her hair up in the walk home. Her sleeves were wet with coffee from when they stopped at a café to buy lunch and she leant in a puddle of spilled latte, and she had absently ran her fingers through her fringe. This had led to coffee all through her bangs.

She still looked beautiful.

Of course, Gwen could dress as a tractor and still look beautiful.

Aunt May thought so too.

"You're a lucky boy, Peter," she said, coming to stand by him whilst wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"Yeah, I know."

Aunt May put an arm around his shoulder and gently took his crutch. "It's not often you find someone who is your equal. I was lucky in that case, too."

"Equal? You kept Uncle Ben in line with your spatula and kitchen knives."

Aunt May lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "That's not true, Peter."

Peter raised his eyebrow.

"It wasn't the _spatula..._"

* * *

Gwen's walk home was more memorable than she'd have preferred.

The rain was not memorable.

The wind was not memorable.

Even nearly getting hit by a cab was not memorable.

The billionaire in a flying metal suit caught her by surprise though.

Especially when he landed in front of her, in the middle of the sidewalk, where _everyone _started staring.

He landed heavily, in a puddle, and an elderly woman walking past was drenched. She gave Iron Man an evil glare and muttered something about "Youngsters and their high-tech nonsense" and carried on walking with her poodle.

"Hi, Miss Stacy," he said nonchalantly. "How are you? Where's Parker?"

"Uh-" Gwen floundered for words. "Fine, Mr. Stark. How do you know my name? And if you're looking for Peter, he's not here, obviously."

"I looked you and Peter up after the press conference."

Gwen's mouth stiffened. "That is an abuse of privacy."

"True, but it'll benefit you both."

Gwen folded her arms. "How so?"

Some unknown sound must have distracted him because he paused and remained completely silent for a few seconds.

"Yeah, that makes sense."

Okay, there was obviously a phone or something on the inside of the mask.

"Okay. Yeah. Nah, I know what you mean."

She pulled out her own phone and hurriedly texted Peter.

_iron man just stopped me in the street and started talking 2 me_

"What? When did that happen?" Mr. Stark said in disbelief to the person on the phone.

**Bing.**

Wow, it didn't take long for a reply. She looked at the screen.

_wat._

Oh, Peter was so literate.

**Bing.**

_what does he want. _

"Are you actually _joking? _Tell Clint he's an idiot."

**Bing.**

_if he wants to beat u up ill be there in 40 sec_

Gwen smirked. The perfect example of her boyfriend's idiotic sense of humour and overprotectiveness.

_nah he just said he was looking us up on the net and itll be to our 'benefit' somehow_

"For fuck's sake, he _put his hearing aid on 20%? _Is he _trying _to piss me off?"

_now hes bitching on the phone about some dude called clint_

**Bing.**

_i think thats hawkdude_

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll tell her. Give Clint a punch from me. Yeah, whatever. Wh- _bye_, Romanoff."

**Bing.**

Another text from Peter came through, but Gwen stuffed her phone back in her pocket as Tony Stark hung up.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

He said 'yeah' a lot.

"How is you creeping on us beneficial?" Gwen asked.

The Iron Man suit shrugged, which was possibly one of the most unnatural things Gwen had ever seen in her life. "Sorry. I can't tell you until Parker's here. It mostly concerns him. Y'know, since shit happened to him in the attack, right?"

She didn't respond.

"I'll talk to you when you've got your boyfriend with you. Bye."

A hot blast from the repulsors dried Gwen's hair as Iron Man took off into the sky.

She took out her phone again. Peter's message flashed on the screen.

_is it about the paying for college thing because i got the letter that said i got the scholarship_

She quickly typed a message back.

_he just said he couldnt tell me unless you were there_

**Bing.**

_asshole._

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the update, guys. It was actually really hard to write, which is strange since like nothing happened. And sorry for OOCness from anyone.**


	6. Employed

**I am so sorry for the long delay! I have a few chapters written out, but I need to write the connecting chapters, and it seems I'm just incapable of doing that. Thanks for being so patient, but it's not the most interesting chapter.**

* * *

Peter sighed and sprawled across his bed, scrolling to the message Gwen had sent him and glaring.

_iron man just stopped me in the street and started talking 2 me_

Peter was already aware of how dangerous it was being in a relationship with Gwen when he was Spider-Man, but he felt unfairly angry at Tony Stark for talking to her. He tried to rationalise it in his mind by thinking that Iron Man publicly talking to his girlfriend would put her in danger, but it really wasn't true. Stark's girlfriend, Pepper Potts, was a very public figure, and the one time someone had tried to abduct her, it hadn't ended well at all. Tony Stark talking to some girl on the street would look pretty unremarkable to a criminal mastermind.

So he just texted back:

_wat._

Then, because that seemed pretty unsophisticated, he sent another message following it.

_what does he want._

He had suspicions as to what it might be about, but suddenly he remembered what Stark was capable of.

He quickly texted, _if he wants to beat u up ill be there in 40 sec_

It was meant to be a joke, but Peter found he was worrying quite a lot about what her answer would be.

_**Bing.**_

Her message arrived.

_nah he just said he was looking us up on the net and itll be to our 'benefit' somehow_

What? Maybe he wasn't going to attack Gwen (he felt slightly embarrassed that he worried about that, Tony Stark _had _seemed genuinely sorry), but searching them up on the internet was either paedophilia or just plain creepy. What 'benefit'? What?

Another message from Gwen arrived.

_now hes bitching on the phone about some dude called clint_

Clint? Peter recalled Captain America saying something about a Clint- Barton, was it? And something about arrows...

He nearly slapped himself in the face. _Duh. _This Clint dude must be Hawkeye. Arrows. He texted his epiphany to Gwen.

_i think that's hawkdude_

He could never resist throwing in some insincerity.

_he said he couldn't tell me unless you were there._

Oh, so stopping his girlfriend in the street was all fine and everything, and then apparently pissing off when he saw Peter wasn't there?

Inexcusable.

Peter texted back the words, _asshole. _

Then he threw his phone across the room onto his desk. It nearly missed, landing on the keyboard with such a horrifying clatter that for a second he was sure he had broken both of them. Then his computer screen lit up from the pressure, and so he laid back and- wait, what?

Google Chrome was still open from early that morning, when he had been checking on articles about the Avengers (he wasn't going to risk pissing them off again, even though it was 200% their fault), and the news site had apparently updated. This time with a blurry image of someone on a flying skateboard or something with the large caption reading **GREEN GOBLIN TERRORIZES NEW YORK.**

_Green Goblin? _Peter thought. That had to be Jameson's doing. No one else would nickname a criminal so stupidly. He couldn't read what was below that, so he webbed his wheelie chair from across the room and flopped into it, pushing himself back to his desk. He stared at the picture, squinting. Even his spider-vision couldn't save the details that might have been crucial. So he scrolled down and began reading the article.

The article was written awfully, of course, and the picture was too (Huh. It was Eddie Brock's trash), but it was somehow _genuine._

He scanned the article quickly, absorbing the information as quickly as possible. The information it yielded seemed fairly ridiculous.

It seemed that some man had put on a green mask and gotten on a high-tech glider that forced him to stand in a stance that looked like he'd been kicked hard in the balls, flying around throwing bombs at people and screeching for Spider-Man.

Oh, there it was.

Peter threw his head back and let out a moan. Why did _everyone _want him? Like, literally _everyone, _minus most of the population of the world. But it was so unfair! He just tried to help! And he literally had no idea who this green guy was, apart from the awful nickname his boss had given him.

Peter squashed his self pity with a lot of difficulty and got back to reading the article. Unfortunately, there wasn't much else to read except for interviews with hysterical citizens and "Spider-Man is responsible for this rampant crime" comments by Jameson.

Man, he really needed to find a new job.

* * *

On the subject of jobs and people after Spider-Man, Peter hadn't expected the two to come hand in armoured hand.

Especially on such a nice day.

He'd just been to the Daily Bugle and- to the great disappointment of J. J. Jerkson, had resigned as photographer. It had been a job he'd been thinking of leaving for months, except he needed some way to help pay the bills for Aunt May. Aunt May worked _so _hard, but even she was limited. So Peter's scrappy earnings had been to ensure the power company didn't suddenly decide to cut off the electricity or something. But when Aunt May had phoned the company, promising that they would pay the full amount in a few weeks, the woman on the phone said the computers didn't say that the Parkers had any debt of any sort. In fact, Aunt May had apparently paid up front for the something like the next 30 years of power bills. It was the same with the water bill, the mortgage, _everything. _And so Aunt May had sternly commanded Peter to give up his 'underpaid job under the control of that _conman' _to focus on healing up.

That was all over the period of two or three days. He could hardly believe it.

And that was why he resigned at the _Daily Bugle._

In his ex-boss' defence, the older man had remained remarkably calm during Peter's speech. It was only after he finished that Jameson unleashed the full payload of his voice, probably cracking Peter's multiple casts and permanently damaging his eardrums.

Then Peter had been unceremoniously kicked out of the building by a collection of huge security guards (they'd muttered, "Sorry sorry sorry, Jameson's a dick we know but we do kind of have to kick you out," as they pulled him out of the building).

So Peter was on the street, hobbling along on his almost-healed ankle and his actually-able-to-move-freely arm, and then the familiar blessed sound of repulsors was audible.

"Oh, shiiiit," Peter groaned as he looked up, resignedly watching the Iron Man suit head directly towards him.

Why. Why? Why?!

Tony Stark landed with a crunch on the pavement, leaving large cracks trailing through the sidewalk. The mask flipped up, revealing his face and his dumb beard like he'd missed a spot shaving two weeks consistently.

"Hey, kid! You're looking better!"

"I was feeling better too, then you turned up," Peter snarked immediately. He didn't exactly hold his beating against Stark (well, he actually did, but he wasn't going to say that to his face; snarking was easier), but he wasn't going to just _forgive _him that easily. And he had his actual identity to hide. Best to just pretend to be a resentful victim of the whole situation. "Should I tell my boss I'll be unavailable for the next few weeks due to hospitalisation?"

"Nah, you just got fired, didn't you?"

Wha- how did Tony Stark know these things? How could he possibly know about Peter's resignation when it had literally occurred 3 minutes earlier?

"I quit, actually."

"Well that's extremely fortunate," Tony Stark said.

Peter forced his face to remain blank. What was it supposed to display anyway? Contempt? Fear? What?

"Can you not beat me up this time?" Peter asked, deadpan. "I have stuff to do."

"I thought you were hit by falling debris," Stark said.

Ooh shit. The smarter side of Peter threw its hands up and screamed abuse at him from inside his head. **Dumb-_assssss_**

"I was," Peter said, trying to recover from his slip. "But same result, right?"

He really needed Gwen to make up the excuses for him. If she'd been there, he wouldn't have slipped up so spectacularly and they probably wouldn't be having this conversation.

"So, why did you stop my girlfriend?" He asked. Might as well get on topic, right? Get the pain over and done with.

"Yeah, where is she?" Stark said, turning his head as if somewhere down the street, she was watching their exchange, glaring. Instead he just saw complete strangers glaring, and excited tourists snapping photos.

"Not here."

"Thanks, kid. That's really helpful," he said. He folded his arms, and Peter suddenly had the urge to check whether there were scratches where the arms grated together. "I'll just tell you without her. She didn't take to me well last time."

"Well, no," Peter replied. "She's a big Spider-Man fan."

Tony Stark made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "For God's sake, I didn't _mean-"_

"To mercilessly beat up Spider-Man?"

The older man glared and said, "Let's get back on topic."

"We are on topic, you mentioned Gwen and-"

"Shut up." Tony Stark appeared to be getting more exasperated, and Peter found that he was enjoying himself immensely. "I actually wanted to ask you and your lady friend if you wanted jobs at Stark Industries."

What?

Jobs?

At _Stark frickin' Industries?_

"What, like as receptionists?" Peter very carefully chose his words and attempted to have a calm exterior, despite the fact that inside he was screaming like a child getting what they most wanted for Christmas. Stark Industries. _Stark Industries. **Stark Industries.**_

"Nah, I looked you two up, which I assume Miss Stacy already told you about. You two are smart. Even if I am smarter-" Peter rolled his eyes, "-we could still use more smart people."

"Good to know my future boss will be so incredibly modest."

Stark blinked. "That's a yes? Great! You start work on Thursday." An ID card with Peter's face on it suddenly appeared in the billionaire's hand and he shoved it in Peter's direction. "The elevator talks. It's J.A.R.V.I.S., my AI security system. He likes intelligent conversation. Just so you don't shit yourself when he talks."

Peter opened his mouth to say something (possibly to ask a question or to grovel in gratitude), but his hair was blown back suddenly and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against a hot blast of air.

When he opened them again, Tony Stark was gone, and Peter was standing there with his new job (oh thank god) cradled in his hands. The few pedestrians that had watched the exchange went back to their business as Peter wrenched his phone out of his pocket and dialed Gwen.

"_Hello?"_

"Gwen, Gwen! It's me! You won't _believe _what just happened!"

* * *

**I'd like to thank you all so much again for your patience. I hope for the next chapter to come out quicker, but I'm very slow at writing this fic unfortunately.**


	7. Forgiven

**Hello! I'm afraid it's not the longest chapter, but I'll hopefully squeeze out one or two more before school starts up again.**

* * *

Peter shivered. It wasn't cold, not even remotely, but it was his first day working at _Stark Industries._

It was hard to believe. It was one of those things that had never seemed possible at all, even in the most desperate depths of his imagination, but it was real and _happening._

As he stared at the glass doors, serious-looking men and women in lab coats strutting out, he wished for the billionth time that Gwen had accepted the job offer too.

"It's nothing to do with you, Peter," Gwen had told him when he delivered Tony Stark's message. "It's just I don't like Tony Stark, and I work at Oscorp. And Oscorp suits my needs, y'know? I like genetics and biology. Stark Industries is more to do with engineering and fancy technological stuff. My interests really lie with what Oscorp does."

It was all perfectly reasonable and Peter was glad Gwen knew precisely where she wanted to have a career, but as a matter of fact, he was still a bit desperate. Yes, he was applying for a photography course at Oxford. True, he loved science. And now he was walking into Stark Industries for a new job.

His face felt hot, a startling contrast the cold shiver he had experienced moments before. He was so anxious, but not for the job. Just because he literally had no idea what he wanted to do with his life.

He wasn't complaining that Tony Stark had hired him. No way.

It was just Peter knew he had his whole life ahead of him, and he didn't know how to spend it.

Career-wise, of course. He was definitely planning to stay with Gwen and hopefully not go to jail, and he was obviously going to stick his mask on and go swinging through the streets. But a _career. _Like a job he would want to keep doing for the rest of his life. And getting hired by Stark had just awakened every fear a typical college student suffered.

AGGGH.

Why was it so _hard _to decide on a career_? _He was almost nineteen, for God's sake, he should know by now. Gwen knew what she was gonna do.

Then again, Gwen had known what she was going to do with the rest of her life since she was ten.

A scientist striding by gave Peter and odd look, and he realized he must have been standing there blank faced, moonboot and crutches still present (more for an act that for actual need; his powers had very quickly healed him up) for at least five minutes.

"Okay," he said aloud. "Here goes. Phew. Source of income. Company belonging to a genius. Cool, great."

And he stepped through the doors.

It was a lot less graceful than it sounded though, since he tripped over at least three people with his moonboot and nearly stabbed someone with a crutch. But he made it inside, at least.

He'd been inside for about twenty seconds when a burly, angry looking security guard barged up to him.

"Are you Parker?" he asked loudly. He had thin hair and a demeanor that said he was used to taking shit and was not going to allow it from a minor. Peter's eyes zeroed in on his badge, an awful picture printed on it and name. He only saw one part of the name.

'Happy'.

"Your name is Happy?" Peter asked in bewilderment. He had never seen someone who looked less like their name suggested.

The man's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you're Parker," Happy the pissed-off security guard said, and he grabbed Peter's arm and dragged him off to the elevator.

"Whoa, hey!" he said. "Where're you taking me?" He tried to resist, but Happy's grip was strong, and Peter's moonboot was hindering his every move. "I have life insurance. Probably."

Ugh. Forget about acting, when he got home he was just gonna take the damn boot off.

He was shoved in the elevator unceremoniously, and Happy grunted, "Stark's floor, J.A.R.V.I.S.," and the doors closed really, really quickly. Like so quickly, there was a small gust of air that ruffled Peter's mop of hair.

So he was trapped in an elevator that didn't seem to be moving, all alone. He wondered if there were cameras, and if he was trapped in there for much longer, he could bust out without his identity being revealed.

Shut up, Peter. It's a new job, not the fucking apocalypse.

_Hello, Mr. Parker, _a pleasant electronic voice said.

Peter almost jumped onto the ceiling in surprise, but was hastily reminded that his foot wasn't going to let him go anywhere, and Tony Stark _had _reminded him that the elevator talked

"You're J.A.R.V.I.S., right?" he asked.

_Indeed I am, _the AI said smugly. _You're headed up to Mr. Stark's private floor. He's hoping you will be able to help him on an experiment._

Peter forgot his fears about career choices and possibly being beaten up. It was replaced with eagerness. Like _hell _yeah, Stark wanted him to do an _experiment _on something. That was the coolest thing ever.

"Yeah? What kind of experiment?"

_Alterations on his armour, _J.A.R.V.I.S. supplied. _I believe he is aware of the engineering in a project that you created for a science fair when you were fifteen. Mr. Stark prides himself on recognizing talent in the engineering and technological divisions._

Whoa, _talent? _Peter was becoming more and more glad that he had accepted the job offer. He made a habit of not complaining when his ego was stroked.

_You've arrived at your floor, Mr. Parker._

"What? But the elevator hasn't even-" Peter's sentence was interrupted as the lift doors opened.

Well, apparently the elevator had, in fact, been moving.

He'd barely blinked when Tony Stark's loud voice echoed across the room.

"Peter! Parker! Kid! Whatever," he said.

Oh, boy. Maybe this job wasn't the best idea after all.

* * *

On the contrary, in fact, taking the job was the best thing Peter had ever done in his short, irritable life.

The technology was _great, _of course, and he was secretly toying with the idea of applying for a degree in engineering.

And the job was barely a job, it was fun and had a really high salary. Peter wished he'd applied for an internship there before, but he'd been too busy getting beaten up by mutant lizards to think about working anywhere more complicated than a newspaper company.

All he had to was basically screw around with machinery until he made something. Mr. Stark ("Call me Tony, kid, I'm not the president") delighted in literally _everything _he made. It was mostly stuff like really-really-really- altered webshooters (he made them shoot different cables, to avoid suspicion). Tony Stark didn't seem to make the connection, so that was all well and good. And most surprising of all, he actually got along well with Tony.

Like, really well.

Sure, his boss's arrogance could be annoying, but the dude was pretty funny, he was pretty generous for a billionaire, and he was sort of kind in a really weird dick-bag way.

Peter was utterly confused about Tony Stark, especially with their history (his ankle still creaked when he walked), but after several weeks of working there, he decided that he liked him.

He was smart, funny, and he actually understood what the hell Peter was talking about engineer-wise.

Honestly, best decision ever.

* * *

It had been four weeks since Peter had begun working at Stark Industries, and Gwen was super-glad that he had recovered so well mentally and physically from his injuries.

Although she harbored intense dislike for Tony Stark, his arrogance, the fact that he used to make weapons for profit (yes, that was in the past, but it was kind of a sore spot since those weapons had killed her pen friend living in the Middle East), and that he and Captain America had beaten the crap out of Peter, she had to admit, it was good to see Peter so happily working for his hero.

When she had first begun dating Peter, she had been hopelessly aware of his admiration for Captain America and Tony Stark. The Cap for his contribution in the Second World War, and because Peter was a huge fanboy of the Howling Commandoes (He had a poster of them in his room, and multiple black and white photos of them on a pinboard). He admired Stark for his mind and his inventions, although he had the same dislike for the weapons.

She liked Peter's pacifism.

When he'd been recovering from his injuries, Peter had been really different, especially about his heroes. Gwen knew how much those two particular members of the Avengers meant to him; growing up, they were his role models.

They were _everyone's _role models.

And Peter hadn't talked about Tony Stark or Captain America in the same way. He scowled when they appeared in newspapers, and didn't mention them unless they were brought up unintentionally by friends and family.

But he really seemed to have gotten over it.

Peter was a smart boy, she knew that. And if he had decided to trust the two superheroes again, then that was what she was going to do. Even though she didn't have to like them, she had to believe that they would do the right thing and look after Peter, and also _not try to kill Spider-Man._

That was really her biggest peeve.

Other than that, she was fine.

* * *

**Sorry it jumps around a bit. I want to get the boring stuff over so the real action can start :) **

**Thanks again for you patience with the last chapter, I'm aware it was a really long time to update. But as it gets more exciting, it should be easier for me to write!**


	8. Attacked

**Sorry, this chapter is really just rushing into the excitement. I just want to get the boring stuff over, so I can (hopefully) upload more frequently.**

* * *

"Hand me the blowtorch, Peter," Tony Stark ordered, not looking up from his current project, his right hand waving impatiently in Peter's direction. The teenager fumbled around for the torch, finding it surprisingly quickly, as it was not altogether safely buried under myriad empty Chinese takeaway cartons.

"Yeah, here." Tony scrunched his fingers in a 'gimme' gesture, and the device was pushed into them. His repulsors in the hands of the suit were playing up big-time, nearly making him blow up the extra piano when he tried to take off inside. Pepper had delivered him the most disgusted look possible, and had instructed him to "go play with your toys somewhere where I don't have to worry about you burning the house down". Naturally, that had led him to cautiously fly to Stark Tower, suit-to-be-fixed swinging in a remarkably strong tote bag that neither he nor Pepper possessed, and had given up trying to match it back to its owner.

"Whatcha making?' Peter asked, poking a strange ball of filament into a tiny device with a pencil. "Or fixing?" He dropped the pencil and cursed as the lead snapped off and the substance rocketed out of the tiny device straight into his face.

"I'm fixing my repulsors," he replied, amused, watching Peter struggle and swear quietly as he pulled the thread of his face. The kid looked like he'd run through a haunted house, cobwebs catching all over. "And what the hell are _you _making?"

"This?" the boy asked, trying to pull the last few filaments out of his hair, wincing as a good deal of hair came with it. "Well… I'm trying to replicate Spider-Man's webthings."

"I see." The kid didn't look as if he knew what he was doing. "It's working fantastically."

"I'm well aware," Peter said, poking the webshooter with the stump of pencil. Honestly, he was using a _pencil. _In just about the most well-equipped, high-tech garage on the planet. "But the webshooters are just so _cool, _he can just _thwip _everywhere." He pretended to shoot webs everywhere.

"You're a nerd."

"Yeah, but Spider-Man's pretty cool."

"Yeah, but I'm cooler and I don't see you making your own repulsors."

"Eh, the webs seem more elegant," Peter said with a grin. "Sure, it's easy to beat the crap out of someone when you got metal fists, but it takes awesomeness to put the time and effort to tie them up and make them look dumb."

"If Spider-Man's so awesome, how come I beat him in a fight?"

"You had Captain America. That's cheating. He'd have thrashed you if your cute little shield hadn't been there."

It had taken several weeks for the boy to realize he could make derogatory jokes towards Tony. And now that he realized his boss was cool with it, he had never stopped.

"That statement is horrifyingly false. Spider-Man was beaten before Capsicle even arrived." He felt a twinge as he said that. The guilt still hadn't fully left…"Anyway, that kid's technology is good, but kind of primitive-" Peter looked overdramatically forlornly at his broken webshooter "-and messy. If I found Spider-Man again, the first thing I'd do is give the dumb kid some actual decent materials to work with."

"And the first thing you would do is _not _punch him to oblivion?"

"Nah. Punching him up's second."

Peter got a curious look on his face, but he bent down and began taking apart the failure he called a webshooter.

"He'd probably appreciate it. Not the beating up part, the 'give me expensive shit to play with' part. I know if I was Spider-Man, I'd probably be grateful. Ish."

"But you're not Spider-Man."

"I know. Oh, the cross I bear."

"You can't hold up a crutch, much less a cross."

"Nope." Peter flexed an imaginary bicep. Anything that was there was either nonexistent or hidden under his baggy shirt. "Look at that. At least strong enough to lift a building."

"Uh huh."

The boy gave him a sly look. "Stronger than you, I bet."

It was almost alarming how quickly they started arm wrestling.

* * *

Pepper stopped outside the door, bracing herself for whatever was going to be behind it.

Yesterday they built a flying ballista in the shape of a dog. It had nearly escaped and it was only under the pressure of her yelling that Tony and Peter meekly dismantled it.

Three days ago, the sight behind the door was half the laboratory smashed on the ground while Parker hysterically laughed as Tony blindly crawled over to a table, oil smeared over his eyes.

A week ago- she didn't even want to remember.

All that _insurance…_

She knocked loudly and pushed the door open, not bothering to wait for an answer.

The sight that greeted her was relatively peaceful. Sure, there were chunks of metal everywhere, and Tony's repulsors didn't appear to have been fixed, judging by their dismantled state and the _still-lit blow torch, God Tony _feebly spitting fire onto nothing, but Peter and Tony had clearly not killed themselves or each other.

Instead, they were frantically and competitively arm wrestling.

"Hey, Pep," Tony said without a glance at her, brow furrowing as Peter's apparent lack of any muscle challenged him. Peter was smirking widely, Tony's arm nearly bent onto the table.

Honestly, Tony did not treat that boy like a good employer should. Peter was more like a nephew than an efficient worker. Pepper did not doubt that he had a good head on his shoulders, and he was always polite to her, but he was surprisingly different to the neatly dressed blonde girl waiting patiently in the elevator, claiming to be his girlfriend.

"Hello, Miss Potts," Peter said cheerfully. Obviously his victory was close.

Tony glowered as his newest employee triumphantly smashed his arm onto the table surface, narrowly missing impaling his forearm on a screwdriver.

"I win!"

Pepper held back a smile as Tony scowled, rubbing his arm.

"I came in to say that a Miss Stacy is waiting in the elevator. She said that you invited her."

"I did?" Peter's young face was confused. Pepper noticed a web-like strand connecting a hunk of hair to an eyelash. It looked like someone had tried to sew the two together. The white strand made the livid red cut across his forehead even more noticeable.

"Tony did." She sent a glare her partner's way. He practically doubled up on himself trying to avoid her gaze.

Forget aliens or Nick Fury. There were only two things that man was scared of. 1: Losing her and 2: Her.

"I did?" Tony asked.

* * *

Pepper slumped at her desk.

Gwen had been remarkably understanding at Tony completely forgetting that she was supposed to come, and Tony had been remarkably sincere in his apology for forgetting (and Pepper was sure he still didn't remember). Gwen was a lovely girl, and Pepper could say how she was an excellent influence on her boyfriend. A bit of sensibility was needed in every relationship.

Guess who had that in hers?

There was only so much of Tony and Peter's antics she could take in one day, even if there was a responsible young woman watching them and ensuring they didn't destroy the city, and it was such a relief to be away from them.

She stretched out a hand and poured a glass of water from a jug sitting on her desk, condensation dribbling off the sides onto a mat. It was crisp and refreshing, and she briefly considered taking it back to the lab and tipping it over Tony's head. Partly for amusement, the rest because that man should be treating Peter like an employee, as much as they got along. How was Peter expected to understand what an actual job was like if his current one was practically _playing _with buts and bobs and chunks of machinery?

She reminded herself that Peter was eighteen, he had had a job before working at Stark Industries and he was _clever. _It would really take someone with no brains to believe that careers were all fun and games.

_Miss Potts, _J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted, _do you remember the figure known as the Green Goblin?_

It was bit of a stupid question. The Green Goblin was the only thing _anyone _was talking about at the moment. He was always swooping around the city on a glider that looked too primitive to be a creation of Stark Industries, screaming for Spider-Man and using small bombs to blow up buildings.

Last week, a supermarket in Queens had felt the man's wrath. Before that, a library, a (thankfully empty) school, a church and an expensive restaurant. The only discussion in newspapers, online, at meetings, was _where was he going to attack next?_

"Of course, J.A.R.V.I.S. Why?"

_Mr. Stark's previous programming had forced me to lock down your office, as per usual in the event of an attack. I detect a figure on a gliding approaching the building._

"What!?" Pepper screamed. "Does Tony know? He's got two _kids _in the lab!"

Despite the fact that the lab was where most of his inventions-in-progress lived and due to excessive overprotectiveness, the lab was the least secure room in the whole building, and Pepper's office was the most. Something to do with Tony having enough junky weapons stashed in the lab to protect itself.

Of course, they hadn't actually thought there would _be _an attack.

_I believe the Green Goblin is _in _the lab now, Miss Potts, _J.A.R.V.I.S. informed her, oddly glum for AI.

Pepper sprinted to the window, heels skittering across the hardwood. Tony's lab was a few floors below her office, and since she was locked in her office (thanks, Tony), the only way of seeing what was happening was peering from the window.

All she saw was shattered glass glinting as it fell towards the earth, and Gwen Stacy following close behind.

* * *

**Oh no! Don't worry, I'm actually not a huge bitch. Stay tuned.**

**Oh, and a message to Guest Reviewer Checkerz: I added in the career freak-out purely because that's what's happening to my sister. I think you're absolutely right!, he would know what he's doing! :) It's just a nod in my sister's direction.**


	9. Fallen

**You guys are spoilt. Two chapters within an hour?**

* * *

As soon as Pepper stepped from the room, Gwen's pleasant smile turned to business.

"Right," she said abruptly. "You're probably aware that I blatantly lied when I said I was invited. The Green Goblin is coming here. It's his next target."

"What?" Peter asked. "How do you know that?"

"Intuition, Parker. No. I looked at all the places he attacked, and they form a circle through New York."

Tony's eyes followed her hand as she yanked a map from apparently nowhere.

"See?" she spread the map out across the table. It was a smallish map that might have been found in a road directory, but it did its job well enough.

Neatly written black Xs marked the places the Goblin had struck. Tony recognized one of them as marking where a nice restaurant had been. He wondered if he should feel slightly guilty that his only regret about it being destroyed was the fact that it was hard to find yiros as good as there.

The Xs trailed around in a circle. Gwen planted a finger dead in the centre, her other hand focused on removing a strand of web from Peter's face.

"See? Stark Tower. You have to evacuate. With a building this tall and full of dangerous weapon prototypes, this is bound to be the most hazardous attack."

"Why's he coming here?" Tony asked. He knew no one was going to be able to answer. "I thought he was after Spider-Man!"

Peter and Gwen exchanged a look. It was so quick that he almost missed it. The boy opened his mouth to reply, but a shattering of glass prevented any further conversation.

A blaze of heat threw Tony and the two teenagers onto the wall at the other side of the room.

"Well, hello!" A gloating voice said. Tony blinked the blur out of his vision.

The Green Goblin stood on his glider, still levitating above the ground.

It was not one classy costume he wore. The mask was frankly ridiculous, large and green and snarling, and the suit wasn't something that would win any fashion shows.

"I'm looking for Spider-Man," the criminal said, staring hard at Tony. Or it seemed like it, anyway, he really _couldn't _see what was going on behind that mask. "And I think _you _might know how to find him."

"Me?" Tony asked, stupefied. Gwen and Peter looked at him as well. Everyone in the room was staring at him. Normally this wasn't a problem, but normally he knew _exactly what was being fucking talked about. _"I don't think that's likely, sunshine. Firstly, I honestly have _no idea _who he is, where he is, nada. Secondly, Spider-Man would rather be nailed to the side of a building than come anywhere _near _me." He wondered if he should yell for J.A.R.V.I.S. to send the Mark 42.

The Green Goblin grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him into the air.

* * *

Well, now he _couldn't _yell.

"Are you sure?" the masked man snarled.

"Positive," Tony remarked surprisingly cheerfully for someone who was likely going to choke to death in a few minutes.

The Goblin leaned forward, obviously trying to intimidate him.

It didn't work.

"Okay," said the Goblin, and Tony found himself back on the ground wheezing.

When he looked up, Gwen was in his position, dangling from the Goblin's hands.

* * *

"Where's Spider-Man?" The Goblin asked again. "I _will_ kill her."

"He doesn't know who Spider-Man is, fucker," Gwen growled. Her voice was slightly raspy from the pressure on her throat.

"No wait, stop!" Tony yelled, stretching a hand out. The Green Goblin raised Gwen higher. "I don't know who Spider-Man is! I don't! I don't know where he is or who he is!"

He could see Peter's expression growing murderous, and he grabbed the boy's arm tightly to stop him from doing something stupid.

"What? You don't want me to kill her?" He jeered. "Why don't you just tell me where's Spider-Man?" Gwen aimed a kick at his groin, but she was lifted even further into the air.

"Put me down!" she demanded. "Because I swear, there are people who can and _will_ kill you if you hurt me." Her expression was scared, of course, but with a type of steel that she must have learned from her late father. Police officer, right?

"I am hurting you."

"I meant more!" Gwen's snarl was cut off in a squeak as the Goblin squeezed her neck.

Peter's hands were shaking. Tony could feel them trembling so hard, so quickly (way faster than was humanely possible) that they were a blur at his sides. Even without his hands trembling, Tony could tell how fast the boy's heart was beating, as the cut across his forehead began dribbling a scarlet line down his face, snaking around his features like a river travelling between mountains. Tony's grip on Peter's arm pulsed with the boy's bloodstream.

"We. Don't. Know."

Gwen's face was red, verging on purple. She was sending a look to Peter; something like _don't say anything or I will kill you._

No one said anything.

Then the Goblin broke the silence.

"Well, if you don't know, then I'm done," the Green Goblin stated in a bored tone, and threw Gwen right through the remaining window.

* * *

Tony barely registered the _smash _of glass shattering and the sound of expletives leaving Gwen and Peter's mouths in large amounts. He could only think, _I don't have my suit._

This was his fault. Gwen was going to die, and so was Peter, all because Tony had invited- no wait, she said she made that up. Well, they were going to die anyway.

And he wasn't counting on Peter leaping out the window after Gwen.

Then it was just him and the Green Goblin, standing there, absolutely bewildered.

"Did he actually just do that?" The Green Goblin asked.

"I- I think so."

"Your employee is an idiot and will die an idiot."

Tony did his own leap (it wasn't as graceful as Peter's) to the window and looked out, expecting to see two bloody patches (or maybe one big one) on the pavement, far below.

He didn't see that.

He didn't see anything. Anything at all. Noth- wait! There was a thin thread blowing in the slight wind. He recognized it immediately.

"Spider-Man," growled the Green Goblin. "Those kids have friends in high places."

With that, he followed Peter and Gwen out the window, and somehow disappeared too.

"_Shit!" _Tony yelled at a level that could have smashed the window if it wasn't already broken. Then he snarled, "_J.A.R.V.I.S.! Send the mark 42!" _

Within 40 seconds of Gwen's initial exit from the building, the room was empty, all occupants having departed in the same manner.

* * *

Gwen fell for only a few seconds before the horror of her imminent death actually dawned. Those first seconds were mostly filled with loud swearing, feeling cuts from the broken window, and the pissed-off thought of _that fucker threw me out of the window._

Then the real terror started.

She was facing the ground, which shot up to meet her in a manner that seemed cheerful. A few pedestrians looked up and shrieked, running.

Gwen wished she could run too. But she couldn't even scream. Her eyes widened as the ground came closer, and then she shut them, because there was no way she was going to _watch _herself die.

Was Peter going to save her? If he was, hopefully he would have the sense to put on the mask, and to avoid dislocating his shoulder or ankle. He was an idiot.

An idiot that she was going to _die for. _She could barely keep back the annoyed cutting through her abject terror.

Then came the familiar arm around her waist, and her fall was stopped suddenly, making her lose her breath and making her head snap forward painfully, but she was safe, she was safe, she was safe.

She twisted her head to get a look at Spider-Man, but it wasn't Spider-Man, it was Peter. Stupid, skinny little Peter who hadn't put the mask on.

"Peter, he'll _see _you." She looked up the Stark Tower, not seeing where she had fallen from. But there were no heads poking out of windows, anywhere at all. She heard a few pedestrians shout, and when she looked down, a couple were pointing and directing cameras at them. "_They'll _see you!"

"Uh, no they won't," Peter mumbled illiterately. He swung them into an already-broken window that was much closer to the ground and they collapsed onto the carpet. Gwen could swear she heard a _crack _when they went through the window, which was confirmed when Peter immediately groaned. "_Oh-h-h…"_

Gwen immediately made a grab for Peter's previously dislocated arm. "Peter I swear to god if you have dislocated it again…"

But she couldn't tell him off, she couldn't, not when he had just risked his identity to save her life. So she just kissed him briefly, and wiped away the blood that was trailing down his face. The cut on his forehead had opened up with stress.

"My arm's fine," Peter mumbled against her hand stemming the flow of blood from his forehead. "I think I busted my ankle again though. I'm Spider-Man, I shouldn't have to deal with embarrassing injuries."

"You fucking idiot," Gwen settled for insulting him and holding him close.

"What about you?" he asked, lifting his hand up to stroke her neck. When her throat felt hot to his touch, and he spied bruises forming, he frowned. "I'm going to _kill _that son of a-"

"Language, Parker. Ask yourself, would Aunt May approve?"

She didn't find out whether Aunt May would have approved or not, because Tony Stark rocketed through the window, nearly tripping on the sill. He landed just as loudly as they did, leaving cracks in the floor, and a table completely demolished.

"Oh my _god, _you're both still alive!" Tony Stark yelled as the Iron Man suit's mask flipped up.

Peter grinned. "Yeah, we're hard to kill." The grin faltered when he tried to move his foot, and his face paled.

Stark grabbed a table leg when he saw Peter wince and hold his ankle. "How? Like how could you _possibly _survive that fall and somehow appear on this level?"

Gwen opened her mouth to reply with some extravagant lie, but Peter beat her to it, with the truth. Or something close to the truth anyway.

"Spider-Man!" he beamed. "I didn't see where he went after he dumped us in here, but he just swung by and saved us."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised he was anywhere _near _the tower after the shit Cap and I put him through."

Peter's face assumed its 'think quickly but look natural expression'.

"He likes him," Gwen intervened. Peter's eyebrow gave an infinitesimal quirk. "As in, Spider-Man's kind of got a soft spot for Peter. I think it's because Peter always takes really great pictures of him for _The Daily Bugle_."

"Yeah, he talks to me a lot when I'm shooting pictures," Peter said, catching on. "Like, 'can you take it from my right side, my suit's a bit ripped on the left,' and he always asked me how school was going and stuff before I graduated."

Tony's face twisted into an expression that was difficult to read. It could have been 'do you think I'm a fucking idiot', or 'that's a very interesting story'. Gwen tightened her grip on Peter's hand.

"Have you spoken to him since I took him out? I haven't seen him around as much and he looks kind bad."

Apparently that expression was actually 'I feel bad for beating the shit out of him'.

"Um, yeah!" Peter said, relieved. Gwen's grip loosened. "He doesn't actually take it that personally. I mean, it pissed him off a lot, but he figured you were doing your job, and Spider-Man said the view he got of the helicarrier was pretty cool."

Tony scratched his head with the leg of the table that was going to become Peter's splint. "And his injuries are healing up?"

Gwen nodded, taking over. "Yeah, he heals much faster than Peter here," she patted his arm. It was a lie, since Peter was only healing a little faster than the average human, considering the extent of his injuries. It seemed to have thrown off his superhuman healing by a large amount.

Peter joined in again. "He's actually a really big fan of you, Mr. Stark." Gwen shot him a warning look that Tony missed.

Tony twitched. "Seriously?"

"And Cap. And Dr. Banner. Basically all of you Avengers. He made his web shooters using some old stuff and a bit of your tech. He's very proud of them. He shows me how he's updated them all the time."

Tony's eyebrow, which had lowered earlier, shot up again like an alert.

Gwen pinched Peter's arm. _Too much, genius, _it seemed to say. _Remember this guy made an arc reactor in a cave._

"You're his confidantes." Tony's brain skills were demonstrated. "You help him get around, help him fight crime, keep his secrets, help him. You're both really smart, so it's probably you two who design his web-shooters and stuff. How else would you know all the stuff about him? I'm not stupid. And Peter, who were literally _making _a webshooter ten minutes ago."

There was a pregnant pause.

Well, he was nearly correct. Except for the 'stupid' part. It wasn't even a _decent_ lie and it fooled him.

Ah, well. Gwen's and Peter's genius intellects were rare crosses to bear. They might as well play along.

"Yeah, okay," Peter sighed.

Gwen exhaled heavily from her nose. _ I hope you know what you're doing, Peter. _"Yeah. For quite a while now."

The eyebrow wiggled menacingly.

"Well, it's not like we were just going to _tell _you we know him!" Peter said defensively. "That would be a blatant abuse of trust!"

Tony sighed and his eyebrow dropped to its proper place. "Okay. Well, I guess that wasn't completely unexpected." He handed over the table leg that everyone had forgotten about.

Gwen gently and surreptitiously elbowed Peter in the side. "And Spider-Man asked Peter to deliver a message. It was going to be anonymously, but since you know about us, then he might as well just say it." She started ripping up a random lab-coat that was hanging over a chair into strips, waiting for Peter to respond. Gwen laid the table leg parallel to Peter's and began bandaging them together.

"Spider-Man wants - ow- to talk to Fury. He's considering working for- _ouch, jeez- _S.H.I.E.L.D. as long as he doesn't have to give up his identity to anyone, including- _OW mother-fu- _that eye-patch guy. I mean, the dude hasn't even told _us _who he is. Privacy and all that stuff, I guess."

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, all Fury said he wanted was to know for sure that Spider-Man was on our side. Do you want me to pass on the message to Director Douchebag?" he asked.

"Yeah. Demand that no weapons be around to- _FUCK- _sorry, because he's really not comfortable talking to you guys if he thinks you're about to blow him up."

"Makes sense."

A low explosion shook the room and more glass fell from the window like paint flaking away.

"What happened to the Green Goblin?" Gwen asked nervously, tucking the end of the final strip of bandage away. "Please tell me you got rid of him." She brushed some shattered glass out of Peter's hair.

"Sort of," Tony said. "He pissed off pretty quick once you made your swan dive," he gestured to Peter. "He went off looking for Spider-Man. Hope he's okay. And why did you make a leap for it? That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen."

Gwen bristled slightly, but Peter replied. "I don't know, everything kind of went a bit blank. I guess I thought that there might be the slight chance I could save her, by cushioning her fall or something." He absently lifted his hand and rubbed his cut, which had stopped trickling persistently.

Tony winced as an awful image of Peter crunched against the pavement with Gwen's unconscious body sprawled over the top of him stubbornly planted itself in his brain. He shook his head to get rid of the unpleasant thought.

"Well, it's a good thing that Spider-guy did save you. I'd hate to be the one to tell your families that a super-assassin got you." He grabbed Peter's shoulders and hauled him up, Gwen glued to her boyfriend's side supportively.

"Ow," Peter muttered.

"Relax, Parker," Tony said. "We're going someplace very safe, where you can all the medical treatment your little ankle requires without rude interruptions from super-dicks."

"Naw, it'll be fine," Peter said. He moved his ankle around in a circle and there were popping sounds and two _cracks _that made Gwen squeak. He leant over and pulled the splint away, the makeshift bandages pulling away too.

"Peter! I just splinted that for you!"

"Ow. Eh, it's fine. The bones were just popped out of place. I've just gotta stay off it a while."

"You could have said that _before,_" Gwen muttered. She wrapped her arms around Peter's waist as his foot slipped and he stumbled. "Please tell me we're not going to the helicarrier, Mr. Stark."

"Yes, the helicarrier," Tony announced. He grabbed the two and squished them up against him, arm wrapped firmly around them. "Clench up and hold on."

* * *

**I told you I wasn't a total bitch. I can promise updates will _not _be that quick in succession.**


	10. Not a chapter

**So I unfortunately have some bad news.**

**I am assuming you are all aware that I have not updated either of my fics in a long time.**

**Before anyone panics, I will update them. I am not giving up on them. I just have exams starting now, and they're obviously more of a priority.**

**The problem is I won't be able to update for another two weeks or so.**

**So that's what, two months roughly, without updates?**

**Ouch.**

**Sorry guys. But since holidays are coming up after exams, I should be able to write plenty more chapters (maybe even finish them).**

**Okay, sorry guys and thanks for being so patient.**


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